Torpe
by elan0rjoy
Summary: What if Bash, not Conde, had been the one to help Mary when she was miscarrying in episode 204? Written because I hate that Conde is turning into Bash 2.0 this season and I desperately needed some Mash interaction.


**Author's Note: **_The idea that Lord Conde is basically a Bash 2.0 makes me crazy and the fact that he was the one who shared this scene with Mary REALLY makes me crazy. So, to prove that A) Conde is a poor, poor substitute for Bash and that B) Bash deserved to be in the scene, I wrote this._

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><p><em>Torpe: <em>

_(n.) a man who is desperately in love with a woman, but cannot admit his feelings or approach her_

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><p>He saw his brother cupping Mary's face and smiling brilliantly. and barely felt the twinge in his heart. He forced himself not to turn around and take the long route to the chapel. After all, it was getting easier to watch them now. He rarely saw her as with his work for the Crown keeping him out of the castle's walls more often than not. And the knowledge of her pregnancy had helped. She was happy. She was Queen. She was with child. He was closer to a state of acceptance now than he'd ever been.<p>

As he watched them from the walk above, he saw the flicker of worry pass over Francis' face, but it passed. What didn't pass was the way her shoulders stiffened and didn't loosen. He couldn't hear the words they exchanged, but Francis seemed reassured as she sent him off without her. He watched her watch his brother rush off, watched her wait until he was out of sight before putting her hand on her belly and moving to lean against the retaining wall.

He couldn't stop himself from rushing down the steps and to her side. It was stupid of him. He hadn't been in the same room with her in months and now his heart was twisting at the sound of her gasp of pain and the fact that he was late meeting Kenna before the christening completely left his mind.

"Mary, what's wrong?"

There was an anxiety in his voice that he didn't realize he still possessed. When she turned to face him. her eyes were dark with pain and he felt his stomach clench in unbidden and inappropriate fear. But she waved off his hand as he reached for her elbow:

"It's nothing," her voice was tight and breathy.

"It's not nothing." Without realizing he'd done so, he'd closed the distance between them and had reached for her hand. To his surprise, she didn't let it go, but clutched at it as another wave of pain hit her. "I'm going to get you some help."

"No!" There was a wildness in her eyes that he didn't recognize, and it was enough to stay his feet. "Could you just-"a moan that made him wild with fear broke through her lips, "-help me to my rooms."

Afterwards, he would recall that there had been a time when he was desperate to hear her say those exact words. But in that moment, all he thought about was helping her. Without another thought, he wrapped one arm around her waist and helped her back the way he'd come.

Every time they passed someone on the way back, she'd straighten up and smile, not allowing anyone to see her weakened. But as soon as they passed, she'd lean heavily on him and exhale a breath through gritted teeth. He tried to take her to the infirmary, but she insisted that she just needed to go to her rooms. She also insisted that they take a little used route through the palace to her chambers, to avoid the nobles, he suspected.

She didn't speak to him and he, attuned to her need to appear strong, didn't ask her the frantic questions that bubbled just behind his lips. When a particularly strong wave of pain hit her and she squeezed his hand, crying out in spite of herself, he had to force himself not to sweep her into his arms and carry her to the infirmary. She'd sensed his feelings and looked up at him, "Bash, please."

He looked into her face and saw so much there: fear, pain, and an exquisite despair the likes of which he'd never seen her wear. He suddenly realized what was happening and felt sick to his stomach.

"Mary, the child…" he could not finish the sentence, prayed that he was wrong. Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded.

"I'm losing him." Her voice was absurdly calm, given the situation, and his heart broke for her. He knew little about female physiology, but he also knew enough to know that there was nothing anyone could do now.

He could not help himself now. He picked her up and carefully, like he was handling fine china, carried her the rest of her way to her chambers. He felt her tears soaking his shirt, but she remained silent until he pushed open the doors and deposited her on the chaise lounge.

"You must tell no one," she whispered fiercely as he stood back and took stock of her. There was blood running down her legs and staining her satin slippers. Her face was ungodly pale and after he'd set her down, she'd sort of curled up into herself, but she seemed otherwise in tact. She was still speaking in that firm little voice,"No one can know until after the christening, especially not Francis. I can't ruin today for him or Lola."

He closed his eyes and fought down the desire to take her into his arms. Of course she wouldn't ruin this day for his brother. Of course she would put him and his happiness above hers. Of course she would appear strong before her nobles. Of course her friend's happiness was what mattered to her most. Of course she would put herself last, even as she went through this incredible pain. Of course. He felt a wave of nausea crest and bit it back. Damn, but he loved this woman.

"But, Mary-"his protest was cut off as she flinched and clutched at her middle, a gasp falling from her mouth. He was, again, at her side in an instant, kneeling next to her and reaching for her hand.

"Please, Bash," she breathed through gritted teeth. She squeezed his hand tightly. "Please."

He took a deep breath. "What can I do?"

At the same time as a tear made its way down her cheek, he saw the practical Mary take over her body.

"Bring me the pitcher and basin from the bureau." Her voice was choked with tears, but steady. He rushed to do what she asked with shaking hands. When he deposited the items on the small table at her elbow, she almost smiled at him. "Now, go to the christening. If anyone misses me, tell them I'll be along shortly."

"I won't leave you alone."

Now she did smile and the emotions it contained made him ache. "I won't be alone for long. I'll ring for a servant to help me change. Now go."

He could not refuse her and rose to leave. When his hand was on the doorknob, she called after him.

"Thank you, Bash."

He didn't turn around. The temptation to take her away from this place and these people and this sorrow was too great to let himself look her in the eye again. "I'll always be here for you, Mary," he said in a voice that might have been too soft for her to hear.

Once he was in the hall, he vomitted into a potted plant. He waited there until he saw a servant girl enter the room. Only then did he leave her door and go to the chapel. No one was worried about her absence. Everyone's attention was focus on their king and his mistress. He took his place at Kenna's side and didn't give her a word of explanation when she nudged him and whispered "You're late."

He didn't breathe properly until he saw her take her place at Francis' side at the ceremony. He watched her take the baby and smile at the little thing in her arms while the priest murmured prayers in Latin. He watched her smile slip for the briefest of moments as she handed the baby back to Lola and saw her hand pressing into her stomach. He applauded and smiled, as he was supposed to. Their eyes met across the room and he held her gaze, channeling strength and love and comfort into his stare as he watched her.

When news about the loss of the baby spread throughout the castle a day later, he played his part well. He murmured about how awful it was to Kenna and offered words of comfort to his brother. His brother hugged him and cried and Bash realized that this was a blow to two of the people he loved most in the world. He left the castle that day on the pretense of searching a nearby village for the Catholic fanatics. In reality, he rode across the countryside for hours and raged against God for hurting her. Later, when his rage at her pain eddied away, he thanked God that he had been the one to help her.


End file.
